


Kuebiko

by summerxblessings



Category: Infinite (Band), K-pop, NCT (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Angst, Angst-y! Jungkook, Be eco-friendly guys, Child! Jaemin, Dark and bleak! Taehyung, F/M, First part is up and is an introduction to the world, Friendship, M/M, More characters will probably show up as I flesh this out, Please read and enjoy lol, Political AU, Romance, There may be more Dreamies or NCT members I haven't decided yet tbh, Written for a writing contest, You might enjoy this if you study science, bts - Freeform, dystopian au, end of the world as we know it, lol why do I also forget to tag the most important things, vkook
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-05 18:11:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17329946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerxblessings/pseuds/summerxblessings
Summary: {AU} It was snowing again.Black snow.He stood at the window of his office, watching layer upon layer of black snow build up like phlegm and tobacco in a smoker’s lungs. Until finally, he broke the silence, turning to face his assistant who stood there at the doorway behind him, silent too, and awaiting more instructions.He has decided.“Bring me the political prisoner,” Taehyung finally said. “I need to speak to him.”-From The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows:kuebikon. a state of exhaustion inspired by an act of senseless violence, which forces you to revise your image of what can happen in this world—mending the fences of your expectations, weeding out invasive truths, cultivating the perennial good that’s buried under the surface—before propping yourself up in the middle of it like an old scarecrow, who’s bursting at the seams but powerless to do anything but stand there and watch.





	1. {part one.}

**Author's Note:**

> This has also been posted on AFF and Wattpad under the same username and title. This was written for a writing contest: link can be found if you visit AFF for this story.

_A/N: I am using this part to set up the story/world and give you insight on Taehyung. Please wait patiently for the next update where there will be VKook interactions._

-

In the year 3145, black snow was a common occurrence. It fluttered continuously down from the sky that was painted a permanent black and any sources of light (that were used to mimic how the world was like many, many years ago) were artificial. The sources of artificial light, of course, were not nearly as powerful to mimic the slightest effect that the Sun’s rays would have on Earth.

Light from the closest star in the solar system, called the Sun, as they were taught in school, never penetrated through the atmosphere or reached anyone on Earth anymore. Almost a millennium ago, a group of scientists realized that mitigating the effects of global warming was a lost cause unless they did something drastic to prevent the effects from being realized.

Technology did not exist at the time to reverse the damage done to planet Earth and humanity, at the time, did not care for events that would not affect them. After all, it was a motto to "live for now, and worry later". They did not need to worry later, so thus they only lived for then.

The group of scientists were able to build a non-heat conducting structure to encapsulate the Earth and protect it from the rays of the Sun, which was trapped as heat in the Earth's atmosphere because of the greenhouse gasses. With that structure, they built channels that allowed for harvesting the Sun's energy, in hopes of creating a world that would be powered by clean energy. As a result, the world had artificially cooled down, causing a man-made Ice Age to occur.

Many animals died in a mass extinction event right after the start of the man-made Ice Age. Their carcasses were readily taken and preserved, placed into Museums to educate the world about what had once existed. Those who were saved were bred in zoos and animal sanctuaries but even now, it was a race against time as inbreeding within small populations of animals has caused many of the animals to begin to die from genetic diseases.

Plant diversity, however, had been preserved to some extent and agriculture still flourished, though now it was under artificial greenhouse lights with artificial heating, as heat was nowhere to be found on Earth. It had helped that there were numerous seedbank projects before the Earth was encapsulated that had come together to provide a cohesive range of plant and crop flora to further sustain humanity.

All in all, although there were massive losses to biodiversity of Earth, there was still the ability for humanity to continue and humanity would do so, trudging alongside an ominously ticking clock.

The hope of the scientists then was that eventually, the inhabitants on Earth would come to find a way to rid the Earth of the greenhouse gasses that hung high in the atmosphere and repair the damage done to the ozone layer. Perhaps, some would muse, that all their hopes were naught.

Not much has changed since the Encapsulation Event.

Humanity had not learned—rather, Taehyung’s father, had not learned, and neither did those who invested in his coal mining business, or those who were employed by him and bought coal from him to heat their homes. He was still harvesting coal using energy from burned coal bricks to power almost ninety-five percent of District One-Twenty-Seven and about seventy percent of the world. Arguably, even a millennium later, coal burning was still probably the cheapest way to produce energy, and Taehyung’s father had been adamant years ago to create a transnational monopoly of coal mining and production of energy from what was mined (and he succeeded).

The only product of all the scientific engineering to encapsulate the Earth a millennium ago was thus just this—black snow. There was no new enlightenment of humanity, no new research to help solve the dilemma that scientists and humanity faced years ago, and there was no saving humanity now.

Black snow was the only outcome of encapsulating the Earth that would be written into the history textbooks, a small blurb in comparison to hundreds of pages about wars, poverty, global warming, and mass starvation.

It snowed because it was cold from the absence of the Sun’s warm rays, and the black colour of the snowflakes came from the coal and polluting particles that still lingered in the Earth’s atmosphere. There were, of course, still more polluting particles being emitted everyday, no thanks to Taehyung’s father.

The black snow, pretty and ominous as it was, was dangerous to many. Many children of the generation that was just born were allergic to the black snow. There were some from previous generations that were also allergic to the black snow but not to the widespread degree seen in the youngest generation to exist now.

There were new drugs on the way that scientists were promising could possibly lead to anti-inflammatory reactions to the black snow. But parents wanted the answers now and they wanted change. They wanted the pollution to stop, no longer wanting to seal their children from the world in fear of it snowing black snow (which was, if meteorologists had to be conservative with their estimate, about once every four hours), worried that their children would eventually be killed after numerous allergic reactions mounted by their immune systems.

The parents argued that it was basically waiting for a slow death for their children, unless their children did not walk out into the snow. They wanted solutions to their dilemma now.

However, that was of no concern to Mr. Kim, President of Coal Mining Trading Company.

And Taehyung could only agree cruelly that there was nothing much that could be done. He had read the literature himself after he heard of the widespread occurrence of children who had allergic reactions to the black snow—even if Mr. Kim were to reduce the carbon emission rates, it would not stop the black snow. It would snow black snow for at least the next two millenniums.

Furthermore, Mr. Kim only saw profit and profit only. Besides, there were hardly any winds after the encapsulation of the Earth and water and wildlife in their natural forms were considered so precious that it was against humanity’s interest to build dams. Solar energy could only do so much as Earth was far too far from the Sun for the energy to be harvested efficiently. So, there was only coal left.

What was very much ironic to anyone who had known Mr. Kim before his ascent into his position at Coal Mining, was this: he had once been a scientist. And he too, had once sought for the solution to clean energy and eventually releasing Earth from the capsule. He had studied nanotechnology and information systems, far different from what he was doing now. But no one really knew, of course, except for a few select people.

However, the rumours in District One-Twenty-Seven were very diluted to the point that it was just known that Mr. Kim was some sort of scholar that had studied energy consumption and forms in his studies after high school. But that was hearsay, for no one knew where this Mr. Kim originated from or what was his story. They just knew he provided energy to most of the world and that he was awfully charismatic.

No one knew what happened behind closed doors.

Taehyung himself, barely knew, and he was considered one of those who was most in the loop, which was what was scary.

(He had no idea that secretly, Coal Mining Trading Company had many subsidiaries, many whom owned “clean” energy power plants and that he basically owned all the energy supply in the world.)

(And if one were to think a little bit more, one would realize that perhaps this company controlled everything in the world, for without energy, nothing could operate.)

-

“Sir, your bath has been drawn and the temperature is at what you would deem acceptable,” his assistant said, opening the door to his bedroom that was unlocked, after rapping on the door in a brisk manner. Taehyung turned to face him, nodding his head to his assistant. He gave a small wave with his left hand lazily to dismiss his assistant. Noting that Taehyung didn’t want to speak, the assistant had just nodded his head and gave a small bow. Then he left, leaving the door open in his wake.

Taehyung sighed a little, facing the black snow that billowed down like a waterfall from the sky. It was going to be a pain to travel to the function tomorrow that his father had wanted him to attend that was going to be held in honour of the political parties that were running for leadership in the upcoming election.

There were not many political parties, if Taehyung had to be honest. Most of the political parties had dissolved over the years after realizing that the Libertians that were currently and had been in power for the past fifteen years had a strong name in the District. Many of those politicians of the other political parties ended up assimilating into the Libertians and were often great spokespersons for the political party.

It was oddly peculiar that so many people would change their loyalties rather easily, and Taehyung couldn’t put a reason to how that was possible, but he figured that perhaps all of those who ended up assimilating into the party that his father backed, often saw that what the Libertians preached were reasonable.

Taehyung himself did not see any sort of solution for the bleak situation that was facing humanity. In such a world today, it was everybody for themselves. It was far too much of a privilege to even think about the consequences of their actions for the future generations. They could only live for the present and let the future generations worry when it affected them.

Pulling off his necktie in a swift movement and throwing it onto his bed, Taehyung made for his bathroom that was the room adjacent to his bedroom.

Almost immediately after entering the bathroom, he was hit with warm, humid air. He breathed in, immensely satisfied with the heat. He closed the door behind him with a quiet thud! And began to strip of his clothing, after making sure that there was a change of clothes laid out for him by his assistant, and a fresh towel was hanging on the hook on the wall, right by the light switch.

Once submerged inside the bathtub, occasionally ducking in and out of the water as he shampooed his hair, he let his thoughts wander towards what had transpired during the day.

After graduating from university, his father had promoted him to spokesperson for the company. Throughout his time as a teenager and young adult, before he had become involved with the affairs of the company, he often found himself plastered on the headlines of the morning newspaper on the slower days.

He was often praised for his good looks and polite manners, though Taehyung would say that the tabloids obviously had nothing else to write about if that was all they could say about him. He was more than his good looks and polite manners—not that anyone would care to look further than that anyway.

He had visited the city’s only orphanage per his father’s request, in order to maintain good public image. He always enjoyed going to the orphanage to hand out toys and to play with the children, but he disliked the accompanying pouts that occurred when he was getting ready to leave.

“Why are you never around that much? Come more often!” Jaemin had pouted and stomped his foot.

Taehyung had quite the morning at the orphanage. The children had decided on tag and a tea party, and Taehyung had first played “it” for the entire game and then he played the role of maid for each respective game-play.

“I’ll be back before you know it Nana. Take care of yourself and look after the others,” Taehyung had softly said, giving the younger boy a hug and kiss on the forehead before turning his back at the doorway of the orphanage. He did not look back.

He always hated leaving. It was always his favourite “event” to attend, though his father found it useless and didn’t often schedule it for him.

It was easy to be around children who didn’t lie and were simple human beings that showed their emotions as they came and go. He didn’t like politics or skirting around sensitive topics in formal settings—it was just too suffocating for him.

But this was the life he had accepted, being the son and perhaps the only possible heir to the coal mining industry.

Taehyung doubted that his father would allow for anyone else to have control over the monopoly after he decided to step down.

In the end, his father still wanted some semblance of control over the monopoly, and what better way would there be to control a monopoly, if not to just hand it down to a son who did not engage in politics at all, was a cynic at heart, and had long closed himself off to the suffering everyone but children.

“Don’t overdo it,” his father had said. “Don’t go so often that people think you’re doing it for show.”

So, Taehyung only visited once a month, though he obtained a good reputation with the children who have been there for almost years now.

It was usually the case, as many people did not want children anymore, in fear of bringing a life into the world at such a tumultuous time and being inadequate in providing what children needed to thrive under such abysmal conditions that had been laid forth by the product of humanity’s greed.

Then the latter half of his day was spent at a conference about caring for the environment. Ironically, it was all about how citizens were responsible for the Earth and the amount of pollution that was being emitted into the atmosphere. They were encouraged to use public transportation and walk whenever they could instead of using private transportation methods that required fuel.

It was all a fool’s joke—Taehyung was unsure who even believed what was being said at the conference. Perhaps the new graduates from universities, ready to change the world, only to realize a few years down the line that it was impossible. Humanity was walking towards the cliff of extinction and Taehyung could not see any other fitting end other than that.

It was all because of the pollution the industries were putting out into the atmosphere without care that the clock for humanity had sped forward once again, after the Encapsulation Event. One measly, average human barely had enough to heat their home, let alone afford their own private transportation. By far, there were little that were well-off enough to have their own private transportation like Taehyung did.

It was all a scam.

All a bid to blame the people but not the government and not Mr. Kim.

But Taehyung was not one to be involved in politics—he had developed too much apathy to care anymore.

He took a deep breath in of the minty shampoo and body wash he liked using that filled the air with their scents. He then gathered all his willpower together (it was difficult to leave the warm and quiet bathtub) and lifted himself out of the water, splashing water into the surrounding floor tiles.

He gave no notice to the excess water that had spilled onto the tiles as he quickly dried himself off with a towel and pulled on the clothes that his assistant laid out for him. His skin was wrinkled as a prune, but he felt immensely better, as he always did.

As Taehyung turned into his bed for the end of another day, though it was hard to tell by the colour of the skies (it was always black now).

He closed his eyes and drifted off into sleep.

He did not dream.

-

The next day proved to be chaotic.

The second he woke up, he was bombarded by a maid who had knocked hurriedly on the door, announcing that he had to hurry up and get ready for the formal event that was planned for tonight. Taehyung had a habit of locking his bedroom door now, after a failed assassination attempt in the depths of the night many years ago and no one had the key to his room anymore.

Taehyung unlocked his bedroom door after a few minutes of staring blankly at the ceiling above his bed. With that, a completely new assistant bustled in, almost completely bulldozing Taehyung down in his hurry.

“Oh sorry! I almost ran you over didn’t I?” the assistant had asked. Then, without even waiting for an answer, the assistant then said, “Time is ticking and we really don’t have time to lose. I’m your new assistant by the way.”

Taehyung had almost forgotten that his father had informed him that he would have a new assistant today. His father had also mentioned that he didn’t get any eligible assistants this cycle, so he had to choose the best one he could find. Unfortunately, his father had said, the assistant was rather brash with his words and actions.

Taehyung could attest to the fact that his father was right. He always was. He just stood quietly, watching the new assistant go off on a tirade about possibly being late to the appointments he had today, which definitely would do more harm than good to his pristine image. When the new assistant realized that Taehyung was perhaps not following along, he stopped and just concluded with, “Sir, you really need to get ready.”

Deciding that the new assistant was amusing albeit also annoying to some extent for the incessant chattering, Taehyung asked, “What is your name again?”

He had been informed of the new assistant’s name, but he almost forgot it immediately.

Taehyung often had his assistant changed by his father every month or so, so Taehyung didn’t find it necessary to learn their names and form an attachment. But with this one, Taehyung decided it wouldn’t be so bad after all. No one was really chatty anymore and he supposed he would need a little more human interactions other than the ones that were at formal events.

He imagined that his father switched his assistant often to avoid the possibility of the two forming a partnership and understanding of some sort that would shake his empire. Taehyung mused that perhaps his father didn’t understand just how cynical and tired of life he was that something as far-fetched and dangerous as trying to overthrow him was far from his thoughts.

“I’m Hoseok,” the boy grinned. “How about you?” then he almost smacked himself in the face to try to remedy the situation, realizing he just asked Taehyung what his name was. Then Hoseok just said, “Can we just pretend I never said that?”

Taehyung cracked what was a semblance of a grin, his lips curving upwards for the smallest fraction of a second, before it disappeared.

“You smile!” Hoseok gasped in surprise. Taehyung had no idea if he should be annoyed or angry at this point. He never liked filling out reports or complaining to his father, so he just took the jab in a stride.

Taehyung just drily remarked, “I need you to get my outfit of the day ready. Or else we really will be late to all of my appointments.”

With that, Hoseok almost went ballistic in his mannerisms as he literally catapulted himself into Taehyung’s walk-in closet to get an outfit ready. What he emerged with was far from adequate and appropriate in terms of colour coordination and branding.

Taehyung just sighed a little as he realized that he perhaps had to prepare his own outfits for the next while until a new assistant arrived.

“Just…” he had no idea what to say to the outfit. The chosen outfit already spoke miles about his fashion sense, as well as how useful he was going to be with helping him get ready for the day. “Just go out. I need to change.”

“Alright!” Hoseok saluted him, having no idea that Taehyung just really needed him out of his room so that he could remedy the situation on his own and change in peace, in fear of the assistant accidentally ripping his clothing in his quest to “help” him with changing into his outfit.

As Taehyung almost forcefully pushed the ball of sunshine outside of his room, he managed to yelp out, “Be sure to let me know if you need any help!”

With that, Taehyung almost wanted to laugh in exasperation but held it in. He was probably going to have a meltdown if this assistant ever came near his clothes ever again. Not that he would admit to it.

He slammed the door shut in Hoseok’s face, quickly deciding that he was going to keep the necktie that was chosen but everything else had to go.

Twenty minutes later, both Hoseok and Taehyung were inside a private salon that catered only to those of importance in the political scene. In those twenty minutes, Hoseok had managed to almost talk his ear off as well as his chauffeur’s.

Likewise, with the assistant, the chauffeur was often switched out, for the same reasons—to prevent a mutiny, though Taehyung still scoffed at the idea of it. Although, however, the schedule for switching out the chauffeur was much more random and arbitrary.

Taehyung was sure that the chauffeur, whose job was to remain silent and just drive, was going to report Hoseok at this rate for not complying with the outlined mannerism guidelines in the employee manual. Taehyung was pretty sure that somewhere in that four-hundred-page manual, it mentioned that unnecessary conversation should be reduced to a minimum.

Either way, Taehyung was not one to tattle on others, so he continued about on his day, albeit in a rather annoyed mood. He was not used to that much talking in so long that it was annoying to be in the presence of someone who never knew when to shut up.

“We have a booking for Mr. Kim Taehyung,” Hoseok had told the reception. She nodded her head, indicating towards one of the posh chairs that were in the lobby. “Please wait while the stylist gets ready to see you.”

Taehyung sunk into his chair, glad for the brief break he had received from Hoseok’s incessant chattering. Of course, that was not going to last for much longer.

Hoseok almost immediately began to bounce in the chair right next to him, “Wow, these seats are sure something, aren’t they?”

At this, Taehyung had just about enough of his new assistant’s antics, but he also didn’t want him to create a scene on the first day on his job.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he murmured at Hoseok, “the salon workers will not be happy that you have sat on that, let alone bounce on it. Leather is rather expensive, artificial or not.” Then as an afterthought, he added, “And please be quiet. You’re giving me a headache.”

With that, Hoseok immediately got off the chair, rigid and every bit the perfect and quiet assistant he should be.

Amused and content, Taehyung closed his eyes, leaning against the head of the armchair.

Peace and quiet.

-

As he entered the venue for the function held by the one and only prestigious hotel in District One-Twenty-Seven, he was blinded by reporters who were photographing and covering the event from the entrance. They were not permitted into the venue, of course, as it was possible that important government information would be discussed between parties.

That, however, did not stop the reporters from trying to ask the prominent figureheads in the District questions. They called them out as he walked past them on the red carpet that had been laid out, leading towards the venue.

He gave them polite and tight smiles, not speaking at all with Hoseok, thankfully, mum right beside him as they walked together towards the auditorium.

“There have been some rumours circulating recently that a lot of your activities have just been calculated moves that your father has planned for PR. Do you have any comment on these rumours?” a voice called out. Others began to join in, but one stuck out to Taehyung the most.

“Sir, how do you feel about a prominent scientist from District Eighty attending this event in support of the opposing party that your father supports?”

Taehyung had almost frozen at this question, although no one would have noticed it, unless they had observed him to the tiniest minute detail. He continued to walk on in calculated strides, though the gears in his head were beginning to turn.

He had never been one to pay attention to politics, but it was strange that another District would get involved. He could not recall any other previous election where his father briefed him on important updates that any other District had been involved in any way.

For the most part, the different Districts kept to themselves.

Since the fall of South Korea as a country (as what had happened to the many other countries throughout the world; not one was spared), the area that used to be known as South Korea had split into different districts. Taehyung never learned from the history textbooks, but he only knew that District One-Twenty-Seven was named after the longitudinal coordinate of where the district now stood, which used to be Seoul.

The language did not change much throughout the years after the Separation, but there were the beginnings of the different dialects in the districts diverging. Given another couple hundred of years, Taehyung was sure that the reluctant peace and ability for the Districts to communicate would halt. It had been said the necessary peace at the current moment was only because there were no ‘othering’ factors between the Districts and no reason to go to war.

All Districts had similar wealth, similar outlooks for the future, and spoke nearly the same language.

“Hoseok,” Taehyung finally said when they were out of earshot of the reporters and safely inside the venue. “When had it been announced that a prominent figurehead from District Eighty would be present today?”

He began to hunt for their seating cards, browsing with his eyes the different name placards that were placed onto each table they walked by.

His assistant had been a little indignant at that, “Well, it’s been all over the news! How could you not have known?”

With his little outburst earned both Taehyung and Hoseok the dirty looks of everyone that was in the vicinity. Taehyung shot everyone that was affected a small look of apology before they all turned back to doing their own things.

“Can you please be quiet and mindful of where you are?" Taehyung managed to grit through his teeth once he found the seating for himself and Hoseok. The two men sat down, his assistant looking a little sheepish.

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok apologized, “it’s just that it’s been really big news and I’m surprised you didn’t know.” Taehyung scoffed a little at that.

He waved his hand a little, repeating what he had told all the other assistants before Hoseok, “What is the point of keeping up with the news when all there is to read is something depressing?”

He could not disagree, for that was most news nowadays. It was usually about a mass famine, the energy uses of the world being far too much to be sustained for the next two hundred years, crop failures, warfare in other parts of the world, and so on and so forth.

Hoseok did not comment on what Taehyung had said, though he could tell that the assistant agreed with what he said, though he didn’t want to admit it. Hoseok just opted to say, “Well, it’s been all over the news. The new political party that has formed recently wants to push for clean energy in the District and they wanted to take the chance to build a partnership with the District right beside us. You know,” he leaned in, “just in case the Districts go to war in the future.”

Taehyung nodded his head at that. It sounded reasonable. However, looking around the room and those who were present, he was sure that the opposing political party would have a very hard time convincing anyone that it was for the best interests of District One-Twenty-Seven.

“My son!” he heard his father’s familiar voice call out from behind him. With that, Taehyung stood up immediately to face his father who was approaching with his own assistant.

He took one good look at Hoseok who stood up and looked ready to greet Mr. Kim, ready to tell him to be formal and quiet and was surprised to hear him say in a very monotone and collected manner, “Good evening, Mr. Kim.”

Well, there were firsts for everything.

Taehyung awkwardly hugged his father back after he was pulled in for a rather rough hug accompanied with equally awkward pats on the back. The two had never really gotten along ever since Taehyung’s mother left them.

With the four of them sitting down and making rather boring small talk, the venue began to fill as people trickled in. Taehyung recognized many of the faces that were present, although he couldn’t quite put a name to each face.

What did surprise him, was the presence of his distant cousin Myungsoo, who took a seat directly across from him, with an assistant of his own. He had not realized that Myungsoo was attending, let alone sitting at their table too.

From what he remembered, Myungsoo had studied environment sciences in his undergraduate and had moved out to District Eighty to work. He had no idea that he was back in the District. The last time he had seen his older cousin was almost four years ago when Myungsoo first graduated from university.

Was he the scientist from District Eighty the tabloids had been apparently talking about for the past while?

“Taehyung,” his older cousin smirked giving him the customary little gesture they always gave each other when they were younger. “It’s nice to see you here.”

Taehyung nodded his head, unsure of how to reply. He looked over to his father, who refused to look at his older cousin, his fists clenching and unclenching on the napkins provided on top of his plate that was set on the table.

He clued in that perhaps his cousin’s presence was not welcome and belatedly also realized that at these events, kin usually sat together, irrespective of their beliefs or political views. He guessed that was the case here.

Finally, Mr. Kim decided to break the tension after the long period of uncomfortable silence, “So, how has District Eighty been treating you?”

“Wonderful,” Myungsoo could only reply, smirking a little at how uncomfortable Mr. Kim seemed to be from that one word. “I’ve decided that I was going to apply for citizenship there and perhaps live there from now on.”

Mr. Kim could only place a rather cold smile on his face in response as the MC announced that it was time for the event to commence.

That was Taehyung’s cue to zone out for the rest of the evening, only snapping back in to reality whenever someone addressed him, or his cousin and father spoke to each other, which was rare and honestly something he dreaded.

At the end of the night, Taehyung couldn’t help but wonder why people ever came to this event and put up with the farce. It was pretty obvious based on all of the old money and people that were present that the Libertians were more likely to win than the newly formed political party.

They had no backing and they had no hold over the citizens.

The election was as good as won.

What also bothered him, though he tucked it away because it was weird, was that the honorary scientist guest that had been invited from District Eighty looked oddly familiar.

-

Throughout the months leading up to the election, Taehyung, however oblivious and disinterested with the happenings of politics, was not spared by the propaganda and the advertisements that were splattered everywhere for each of the political parties.

Although there was little backing for the opposing party (that Taehyung obviously could not be bothered to learn the name of), it was obvious that money was obviously coming from another source aside from those with old money in District One-Twenty-Seven.

That, he mused, seemed to come from parents and people who wanted more clean energy and perhaps, the rich in District Eighty.

The upcoming election was uncertain to some extent, because his father had been on the verge of ripping his hair out throughout the entire process and he was always in a foul mood.

Also, Taehyung learned, he was far too busy trying to make sure the Libertians won the upcoming election that he had failed to remember to change his chauffeur and assistant. Or perhaps, he had better things to do. After all, he was probably keeping tabs on Taehyung to some extent, and his intel had probably provided proof that Taehyung was not one to start a rebellion for he was far too nonchalant about politics to even care.

Throughout the months with Hoseok, he learned that the assistant knew how to act when and acted appropriately. He also came to realize that he didn’t mind the man’s incessant chattering, so long as he wasn’t in a foul mood.

On the day of the election, Taehyung decided to lazily tune in to the television set that he had in his room that evening after doing some promotions for his father. He was curious of the election results this time around, since this was the first time he had noticed his father was that stressed for an election. Usually, he was cool and collected, but he had gone all out this time around, investing more money than usual and had increased promotion events for spokespersons for his company to appeal the Libertians to the citizens.

At the end of the night when the clock struck midnight, Taehyung was not surprised to hear, “And this time around, the Libertians have won once again.”

With that, Taehyung clicked the television remote and the electronic turned off, creating an empty void of silence where there was previously the sound of the television.

It was no surprise to Taehyung, although he had thought there might have been a chance that the opposing political party would win.

However, with the downfall of the opposing political party and the chattering of his assistant had come to a rather interesting standstill, Taehyung couldn’t help but believe that something was amiss. He didn’t care for spies nor tattling but he did not want any leaks in information to have come from him.

And thus, he adjusted what he said and the duties he assigned to Hoseok accordingly.

All the while, he wondered what would become of the opposing political party.

They usually vanished off the grid after losing an election.

This time, Taehyung thought, would be no different.

-

But it was different.

With the election fading out of everyone’s memories, it was still rather well-publicized throughout the web that the opposing party (that Taehyung finally put a name to), called the New District Party, was one of the strongest opponents that the Libertians had to defeat.

The opposing party did not disband, much to Taehyung’s disbelief. Instead, they flourished, although they were careful with their words and to some extent, a lot of their party views did not clash with those of the Libertians fundamentally. His father had even pledged recently at a press conference that he would try to carry out what the New District Party had wanted and introduce more clean energy power plants to the District in the next five years.

Taehyung wondered if this was progress. He had always thought that District One-Twenty-Seven was doomed to forever follow what had always been precedent from the past.

He walked with a little skip in his steps now. Perhaps change was possible and perhaps mankind was not doomed to die off and suffocate in the products of the coal industry.

When he had gone to the orphanage last month for his monthly visits, the children had remarked that he looked happier than usual, though Taehyung didn’t notice it himself. He did notice, however, that he was a little more talkative than he used to, though he chalked it up to having a very talkative assistant.

One day, he remarked to Hoseok while he was taking dinner privately in his office room in the Kim Estate, Hoseok accompanying him, “Perhaps this is silly, but I do think that there is a point in keeping up with politics now. There have been changes here and there that I didn’t think would happen.”

At that, Hoseok had grimaced a little and it didn’t escape his notice.

“What is it?” he demanded.

“Well,” Hoseok hesitantly said. “There’s actually been talk that your father acquired a political prisoner that is actually housed here.”

At that, Taehyung was in disbelief. “What?”

But it was possible that Taehyung wouldn’t know if there had been a political prisoner. The rooms were soundproof, and he was rarely at home. The Estate was vast, and he barely visited the West Wing on most days.

Hoseok nodded his head, grimacing a little again. He spoke quietly, for the walls had ears, “Well, I wouldn’t be telling you this myself if I didn’t know for sure, but I actually saw the political prisoner just the other week. He’s actually the son of the scientist from District Eighty.”

Then he whispered, “His name is Jeon Jungkook.”

Taehyung felt every fibre of his body scream at him as he froze. When had he last heard those three syllables? It had to have been since the last time he saw his mother.

Now, he was left to decide what to do with the new piece of information that he had just gathered from his assistant.

He stood up from where he sat in his office where he had previously been enjoying his dinner, pacing a little. His assistant followed suit, standing up and watching his boss do so. Hoseok stood at the doorway, waiting, for he was sure that he was going to be issued instructions that he was to immediately carry out.

He paced continuously for the next ten minutes, sure that he was going to cause the floorboards to cave in from his incessant pacing.

It was snowing again.

Black snow.

He stood at the window of his office, watching layer upon layer of black snow build up like phlegm and tobacco in a smoker’s lungs. Until finally, he broke the silence, turning to face his assistant who stood there at the doorway behind him, silent too, and awaiting more instructions.

He has decided.

“Bring me the political prisoner,” Taehyung finally said. “I need to speak to him.”

What would be more accurate, however, was that he needed to see him. Was it who he thought it was?

Only time would tell.


	2. {part two}.

Taehyung had not been given the security clearance by his father to see the political prisoner, though it was just one minor trouble in a series of troubling findings. He wondered what exactly was the importance of this political prisoner that even he was not allowed access to see this prisoner.

Mr. Kim seldom prohibited his son from accessing any resources or information.

His father, of course, had been notified that he was attempting to see the prisoner and therefore, he had passed along the message through his communication system that they will meet soon to speak of it. Soon, of course, was a rather arbitrary time designation and Taehyung had no idea what his father meant by “soon”.

During this time, seeming to realize that Taehyung may have been more invested in politics than he had originally indicated, was something that Hoseok capitalized on. It seemed that every other day, Hoseok was dropping information about the happenings in the secret circle of politicians that Taehyung was unsure how he had obtained.

“I have heard your cousin has been captured,” Hoseok whispered to him one day when they were alone. He decided to also helpfully supply, “You know, the one named Myungsoo.” He was getting ready to be dismissed for the day and couldn’t help but let Taehyung know. “He is not to be a political prisoner.”

What did that mean?

Taehyung didn’t indicate that he was the slightest bit affected by the news, although he was beginning to wonder what had happened and what will happen to his cousin.

He dismissed Hoseok for the day.

That night, as he went to bed while staring at the ceiling he laid under, he wondered for the first time in years how his mother was doing and if she was still alive.

He blamed the thoughts of Jungkook that occupied his mind. He wondered how he was doing and wondered if he should search the Estate for him (if it even were who he was thinking of); but thought again, because his father would be livid, and _no one_ wanted to upset Mr. Kim for he never was anything but happy or neutral.

Taehyung turned a little on his back, now facing the wall instead of the ceiling. His thoughts consumed him.

Now that he was thinking about it, the familiar-looking scientist from District Eighty that was at the pre-elections event was someone he knew from his distant past. He shot up in his bed.

It was Jungkook’s father; _his_ Jungkook’s father. Mr. Jeon was older and was not treated well by the passage of time—his hair had greyed, and his face featured much more wrinkles than one would expect for someone that was roughly sixty-years old. His features, from what Taehyung remembered, were difficult to recognize.

He did not need to confirm with his own eyes that the political prisoner was the Jeon Jungkook he knew. He knew it was him. He needed to see him.

However, looking dishevelled the next morning was not something he planned or desired, so he best get to sleep. He laid back down, his heart racing in his chest. He closed his eyes, counting slowly from one, paying close attention to his breathing and willing himself to breathe in and out deeply.

When he finally drifted to sleep, he dreamed.

-

It had been brief, but he saw _him_.

Taehyung woke up earlier than he usually did one day, his heart pounding in his chest from his nightmare (and he found it strange, for he never had nightmares or dreams). He laid in bed for a long time, contemplating his course of action since it was far too early for him to get ready for the day, evidenced by how there was no artificial light streaming in from the outside. Artificial light had cycles and turned on only when the time was right every day; it very much attempted to mimic what Taehyung has learned to be the cycling of sun and moon (he had only seen photos in textbooks) before the Encapsulation Event.

Until, finally fed up: he threw off the covers that had swaddled him in his bed and embraced the chilling air that greeted him.

He got dressed for the day, again without the help of his bumbling assistant and once set, he decided to head down to the dining table for breakfast. Ominously, his door creaked in the silence of the Estate when he swung it open after he unlocked it. Teetering over the floorboards that groaned under his weight, he wondered if anyone was even awake and if breakfast would be even served.

He also wondered if he would see his father. His father always had breakfast before him and Taehyung woke up early. Lost in his thoughts, he started towards the staircase, aided by the path of lights that illuminated the hallway dimly. He did not walk fast—he needed to conserve his energy for when he saw the children at the orphanage today.

There was a crash, making him jump.

His growing curious nature did not help abate his wonder. Hurrying his previously lazy gait, Taehyung reached the staircase and descended the staircase, each step groaning under his weight. Finally, he reached the bottom, his breath slightly laboured.

And then he heard murmuring in the distance and someone yelling behind a closed door. He swung the dining room open and took in the site before him.

His father was there, looking every bit stressed, which was surprising to Taehyung. He was pacing back and forth, giving a dirty look to the person who sat across the table from him, tied and looking every bit smug. _Jeon Jungkook._

His father got ready to yell again, evident by the opening of his mouth and a murderous expression—however, he halted in his actions when he realized they had company aside from the help. The murderous expression immediately dropped, although the very disgruntled look was barely hid. Aside from glee and happiness as well as a neutral expression, his father had never been too expressive in his other emotions. It was easy for people to talk with the slightest misstep.

He wondered what the person across from him had said to rile his father this much.

“Welcome to the party,” Jungkook smirked, leaning against the chair that he was leaning against. He drawled out the last syllable to his sentence, looking every bit like a proud lion who had corner his prey. It was quite ironic, given how he was the one at disadvantage and tied to a chair.

“What’s going on here?” Taehyung stupidly asked, eyeing both parties. His father’s mouth was drawn into a tight line, showing that he was unwilling to speak,

Taehyung ended up looking back and forth between his father and Jungkook—Jungkook, his best friend as a child. The best friend who had rolled down the hill on the other side of the city, the best friend who had always been there without fail, greeting him with a warm smile and the best friend who had been there when his mother died.

None of that was evident anymore for what came out of his mouth was very venomous. He scowled at Taehyung, “Your mother would be ashamed of you!”

At that, Taehyung was livid, and he was also very hurt. But all he managed to just choke out was: “Like you would know.”

It seemed that Mr. Kim was unhappy about it, but he decided not to react to it. He waved to the help that were on standby, their expressions carefully neutral. They didn’t even so blink.

“Take him back to his quarters. I will deal with him later.” Then he looked at Taehyung, a careful expression that was indecipherable. “I will see you soon.”

Taehyung watched helplessly as his father left the dining room and a swearing and struggling Jungkook was escorted out.

The door slam shut behind the two of them. Taehyung was left with some of the servants that did not step up to aid with escorting Jungkook back to where he was being held.

Silence.

-

Jeon Jungkook and Kim Taehyung used to live right next to each other in the desolate and crummy apartments that flanked the outer perimeter of District One-Twenty-Seven. Their parents were employees of the nearby nanotechnology and environmental sciences company that was equally as rundown.

Taehyung could remember his glee, rolling down the hill near their apartments with Jungkook as children. That was all they could do to pass time, really, outside of school.

He remembered one particular memory. They had asked to go play at the hill and their parents relented, wanting to talk about something serious that they didn’t want to overhear. They were over the moon—their parents always came with them and this time they could do it without them. And they could finally do what they’d always wanted to do: roll down.

“I’ll race you down!” Taehyung squealed with delight as the two of them ran up the hill. Jungkook had always been the slower of the two, since he was much younger, and his legs were shorter. When Taehyung reached the top, he stuck out his tongue at Jungkook who was still struggling to climb up, trudging through the snow.

He could barely make out the other’s face in the darkness—artificial lights weren’t installed everywhere because it was said it wasted energy—and the government couldn’t be bothered to spend money on the poor or anything in their community. He could barely make out anything, to be honest but he saw a glimmer in the darkness and he knew that the younger boy was going to cry.

And he was correct.

“Wait for me!” young Jungkook sniffled, yelling in the distance so that Taehyung could hear him. Taehyung had always had a soft spot for him in particular, so he obeyed. However, before the younger boy even reached the top of the hill, he slipped on a patch of ice he didn’t realize was there and he began somersaulting down the hill.

He let out a scream and Taehyung, scared, began running after him, hoping that the younger boy didn’t hurt himself. Not because he didn’t want to get into trouble because he was the older one who was supposed to look after Jungkook—but because getting injured was a burden to the person who was injured and to the Jeons. They weren’t well off and really couldn’t afford it.

Taehyung could only chase Jungkook down the hill, with concern and worry as he watched more snow accumulate and encapsulate the younger boy. Taehyung, looking back now, could only muse that any third party watching the situation would have found it hilarious.

When Jungkook finally hit the bottom of the hill, the snow that had encased him as he was rolling down the hill split open and Taehyung, who finally caught up saw in the darkness a very dazed Jungkook.

“Are you alright?” he asked, waving a hand in front of the younger boy’s face. He blinked. Then he shot up, surprising Jungkook.

He was grinning from ear to ear, “I want to do that again!”

Taehyung had almost wanted to strangle the little boy right there and then. Jungkook giggled in response, knowing from just one look how annoyed the other boy was—and Taehyung dunked him right back into the snow for that.

The two children burst out laughing.

That was years ago—when their families still spoke to each other and their parents were working for the same company.

It had been so long ago that Taehyung could not be pressed for a name of the company that their parents worked at—it had gone bankrupt many years ago, losing its sponsors when unclean energy came back to style with his father’s work with coal mining. There was not much government money available then and now to fund research in any sector. Most scientists did so not because of the money but because they believed they could change the fate of humanity one day, even if they would not see it.

If Taehyung could point to a moment in time when his father had decided to become “evil” it was when his mother fell sick from the dastardly living quarters that they were living in that was always with stale and moist air and was home to those who could not afford better and were very sick with contagious diseases. She caught something that those in the hospital didn’t recognize; perhaps a mutant of some sort that slowly rotted her insides away, but the doctors were very nonchalant and didn’t care much for her—after all, she was not one of the elites and her life didn’t matter to them.

When she was diagnosed, she had at least three years left if she took her antibiotics—that costed an arm and a leg—all the time to slow the progression.

His father had wanted to give up all his dreams and passions then (and he heard his father cry during one of their fights when they thought he was asleep that he couldn’t live without her) and that was exactly what he did. He advocated for governments to stop banning the use of coal (it had been rationed at the time, only for severe emergencies) because it was clear that the energy produced by the solar panels and natural energy sources alone were not enough to power everything in the world and they needed coal.

He fought and lobbied for two long years, all along fighting with his wife for his lack of concern for the future (“But what about Taehyung and his children?” he had heard his mother cry during one of their fights), losing respect from his best friends, the Jeons, and finally—he sat on a pile of coal that made him richer than anyone else in the world. He’d gained control of most of the little coal mining companies in the world only because he was trusted by many citizens all over the world and the governments couldn’t be bothered to find someone else to do so in fear or riots by his loyal followers. It helped that he had boasted of a cleaner way to produce energy from coal, but it was not substantially better than the process that was originally used, if Taehyung had to be honest.

But gaining the coal mining monopoly didn’t do much for his father, ironically, even though their use was much more than nothing. It gave him money, power, riches.

Electricity was no longer rationed after he became the head of the coal mining company; many critics say his position was well-earned. He was hailed as a hero of some sort in textbooks—Taehyung sometimes wondered if he paid the publishing companies to insert an excerpt of him into their textbooks.

But no matter what his father ever accomplished, it never seemed to fill the empty void that his father had. Taehyung had watched not only his mother, who was sick, but also his father, who was not sick, wilt as time went on, like a dying flower. Taehyung didn’t know if that was a good comparison; he wasn’t too sure how flowers looked, much less how a dying one looked. But he’d learned in biology that freshly cut flowers were beautiful but became dull over time.

His father could be described as just that—when he won the power of the coal mining monopoly, it hadn’t been something that he revelled in.

All the lobbying, all the hard work was for an ulterior motive: to gain the money that could fund research to find a treatment for his ailing wife. She passed too soon before that, never to see what he had destroyed—or accomplished.

Taehyung could only say that although he was devasted with his mother’s death, it was a fitting punishment for a man so selfish.

As his son, a political figure or sorts, who had no power and advocated in his own ways for his father’s company that spewed toxins that would one day smother the world and kill everyone, he supposed he was no better.

-

Fumes rolled lazily into the sky, barely visible by the way of artificial light. It was an ominous sight to behold from the distance, first as a speck, and now, a visible form that was very much raw and unyielding.

Taehyung was a little weary as his chauffeur pulled onto the grounds of a familiar power plant that spewed out garbage into the atmosphere, the gates shut behind them. It was, of course, owned by his father and while he had knowledge of that, he had never stepped foot into said powerplant.

This was where his father had wanted to meet him to speak about the political prisoner. It was an interesting place to meet.

Stepping out of the car without the help of an assistant or the chauffeur to open the car door for him, he shut the door behind him, wondering what this was all about. In the distance, he could see his father with an envoy of people trailing after him.

Hoseok was conveniently absent today. The maid at home had informed him that he was too sick to report to work today. That was fine. Taehyung was unsure of how well he was able to keep his mouth shut in a serious environment, although he had demonstrated from time and time again that he was capable of behaving properly when needed.

Behind him, he heard a car pulling backwards and off the grounds. He glanced to see his own chauffeur driving away; that was likely because he did not have the security clearance to have access to the interior of the power plant. The power plant was a very well-protected fortress of garbage, as Taehyung would like to eloquently put it.

With the disappearance of his ride out of the vicinity was the rather loud and ominous _clang_! of the gates, patrolled by security and military soldiers, clanging shut behind the car. He could hear marching of soldiers in the distance, patrolling the grounds to make sure there were no security breaches.

The air smelt of burnt garbage.

“Ah yes, my son,” his father greeted him as they finally saw each other face-to-face for the first time in months, at an agreeable distance for conversation. They may have lived in the same Estate, but their paths did not cross often if at all because of their differing schedules. Taehyung didn’t mind that, of course. He didn’t care for his father’s company.

Taehyung gave a rather stiff nod to his father. “Father.”

A gust of harsh wind swept through the vicinity, making himself and his father both shiver violently from the cold that it had brought. It had also intensified the smell of garbage for a moment.

The two studied each other before a rather bone-chilling grin made its way onto his father’s face, “Why, what are we doing out here in this horrible weather? Let’s head in.”

He made a grand gesture towards the powerplant that loomed in the distance, some six-hundred metres to the north of them.

Taehyung nodded at his father, following along as the envoy turned to walk briskly in the direction of the powerplant. Up above, by way of the artificial lighting that surrounded the perimeters of the powerplant gates, he could see that a storm was about to begin by the amount of clouds that were gathering in the sky. He could only hurry along, his nostrils filled with the uncomfortable, putrid smell of burning garbage that was beginning to overwhelm all his other senses.

He wrinkled his nose a little in disgust but made no comment.

Mr. Kim must have noticed the look, because he found it necessary to break the silence as they made their way to the indoors.

“I apologize for the smell,” his father casually said, as if they were old friends meeting up over a pint of beer, “there have been some issues with procuring coal as of late and we’ve resorted to burning more garbage in the recent weeks.”

 _That_ caught Taehyung’s attention, although he did not hint at that. He barely batted an eyelash as the two of them and the hired escorts ventured closer towards the powerplant.

Coal was, of course, a limited resource. Was it possible that the world was running out of coal?

It was common fact that garbage was used as the cheap alternative to coal for energy, although not very welcomed by anyone, for it stunk and it also caused the release of toxic fumes that were worse than what coal gave off. After all, it was not regulated anymore what people could and could not dump into their garbage. It was very possible that some people dumped biohazardous or toxic waste into their garbage. It was not like people shifted through garbage to check the contents before deeming them okay to burn.

It was too much time and money wasted, in his father’s opinion, stated at a recent press conference. Plus, how would the ordinary citizen even happen to have possession of biohazardous or toxic waste?

As if on cue, the second they entered the powerplant through various protective gates and doors, it began to snow outside.

“Good riddance we got in before that started,” Mr. Kim said, handing his coat off to one of his escorts when they arrived in what he could discern to be the main hallway to the powerplant. He motioned at Taehyung to do the same and he could only oblige.

“Now, I remember that I have never brought you into this powerplant, correct?” Mr. Kim asked, though it was clear that he didn’t need an answer, for he did not wait for one. He did control who came in and out of the doors of the powerplant. With that, he signalled at someone to walk closer to the father and son duo.

It was Myungsoo, to his surprise. He hadn’t noticed when he had entered the main hallway or if he had been there as one of the many escorts that had escorted him into the powerplant. Either way, it was strange. His cousin did not seem to show anything that showed a semblance to recognition or look of surprise to Taehyung’s presence, but perhaps he was just being professional and was informed long before that he would be visiting today.

“Myungsoo here has decided to switch sides,” his father supplied for him. “He made a wise choice with abandoning his post in District Eighty. That clean energy thing was never going to go anywhere.”

At that, a small flicker of a smile graced Myungsoo’s lips. “Of course,” he agreed. And that was all that was said.

Strange.

His cousin had always been very outspoken and disliked being proven wrong. If anything, he also knew that since the ripe age of fifteen, Myungsoo had been a motivational speaker and not one who would back down in the name of justice and truth. It was awfully strange he would be changing his tune after so many years of being devoted to the cause of justice for the Earth that was already bleeding without Mr. Kim’s contributions.

Taehyung couldn’t help but think back to Hoseok remarking that his cousin had been captured and was not a political prisoner. He wondered what that meant, and he had a sinking feeling in his chest that told him that he was not going to like the answer.

“I would like to show you the facility,” Mr. Kim announced, obviously proud of what he has accomplished, “of course, with Myungsoo to help with providing more detailed explanations for certain things of course.” Taehyung nodded his head at this and the tour began.

However, all the while, he was wondering why he was given a tour of the powerplant when all he had wanted was security clearance to see the political prisoner.

He was shown the various processing rooms for the coal, although they were not currently in use, much to his wariness. Then he was shown the site where garbage from various origins (which was normally used for unloading coal) was loaded into the machines for burning and generation into electricity. His father had noted with distaste at that point in the tour that not only did garbage smell bad, it was not an efficient energy source for generating electricity. He was also shown various staff quarters, such as the kitchen and the canteen, the common rooms, and the sometimes-necessary sleeping quarters for overtime workers in the case of overdemand of electricity in the District, particularly during the coldest nights of the year.

And with the conclusion of the tour, Mr. Kim, as an afterthought said, “Well, we were meeting today for something important. My, how could I forget! But first—” his voice dropped down to a decibel that was lower than a whisper, “how about I show you something?” His eyes glimmered with something Taehyung placed as anticipation and glee.

He gave a nod to Myungsoo, who seemed to understand the silent command, and he walked forward towards an area that was marked as restricted, clearly heavily guarded. There was some sort of electronic screen that served as a scanning device, indicated by the flashing blue and green light that turned on as he walked up to the door to the restricted area. He was greeted by a robotic voice that requested his identity number.

Taehyung’s attention was drawn away by his father, who cleared his throat, presumably wanting his attention. He looked away from Myungsoo to look at his father, whose face donned a calculating expression.

It had always been one of those looks that Taehyung had never been on the receiving end of.

“Father?” Taehyung inclined his head a little, gesturing that he was listening.

“I would like to show you some projects I have been working on,” Mr. Kim gestured to his son, who does not speak in reply. He took that as his cue to continue, “And of course,” a rather chilling expression appeared on his face, “I would prefer if you would keep this a little secret between the two of us.”

Taehyung nodded, but he felt very uncomfortable now. He fidgeted, trying to swallow the bile in his throat. It was a very harmless sentence if taken out of context. But the context was now, this exact moment, and it was his father who spoke those words, which were a barely veiled threat.

He watched as the door to the restricted area slides open hesitantly, after Myungsoo’s entire body was scanned by the blinking blue and green lights.

Taehyung couldn’t help but realize then, after looking to his father, whose face was once again painted by a neutral expression, that Myungsoo’s gaze throughout the tour had been bothering him because they looked oddly vacant. Myungsoo had always been very expressive when he talked, and his eyes always had this twinkle in them.

He looked over to the Myungsoo that stood before him at the doorway, awaiting Mr. Kim’s next orders.

But they were black and dull now.

And they reminded him of the coal that was burned and used to heat the world, and the rising smoke from the chutes of his father’s factories when viewed from the distance.

Taehyung swallowed hard, his heartbeat beginning to sound loud to his ears. This… whoever this was, this could not be Myungsoo. But it would be a lie to deny that whoever this doppelganger was did not look like Myungsoo. Every part of them, down to every tip of hair on his head, was how Myungsoo looked.

“Let’s go,” Mr. Kim ordered both Myungsoo and Taehyung.

Shaking away his thoughts that were beginning to spirally uncontrollably into a vortex of wondering what his father was capable of, he followed Mr. Kim into the hallway that had been unveiled, every step making his airway close a little more. Then they came to a stop.

They were greeted by yet another door that also had an electronic screen towards its left. The door that they had passed through slid shut behind them, which made Taehyung jump in surprise. Mr. Kim did not comment, though there was a faint hint of a sneer that left a rather bitter taste in Taehyung’s mouth.

This time, Myungsoo placed his hand on the screen, causing the screen to flicker to life. A robotic voice boomed in the hallway, echoing, “Access granted.”

The door slid open.

And behind the door sat a view that had rendered him speechless at first sight. He was shoved by his father into the chambers and this time, he could not control his emotions—he had been threatening to burst since his realization that the Myungsoo with them was probably not the Myungsoo he knew.

The door to the chamber slid shut before Taehyung could even run. Not that he really could—his legs were shaking, and he couldn’t move from his spot, trembling in horror.

 _Breathe_ , he reminded himself as he felt himself unable to breathe normally. And he did, forcing himself to take in a deep breath that sounded unnatural to his ears. But he almost chuckled to himself, almost ready to cry; it was far more natural than whatever was going on in these chambers. He forced himself to ground himself and to listen to everything that his father, who was looking upon him with pity, said. He could see his mouth moving but he couldn’t hear anything.

He squinted his eyes through the haziness, making himself focus.

“Are you done?” he asked cruelly. He couldn’t respond, the haziness cleared for a second before returning, bile trying to make its way up from his throat. His abdomen clenched at the tightening sensation he felt from his nerves and the thought of the sight he had to take in.

“This…” Mr. Kim gestured to everything around them as Taehyung’s vision began to focus again. “Is my eutopia.” Taehyung’s eyes followed the sweeping motion he made with his arms to gesture at what was his idea of a haven. He could not hold the bile down any longer.

He collapsed onto his knees.

He retched, emptying what little he had eaten before the meeting onto the floor. And then he coughed, almost choking on his own saliva as his throat began to close in on him again. He heard his father—no, his name was Mr. Kim from now on—make a sound of disappointment.

There was row upon row of glass cases, some empty but some with occupants. Those with occupants had humans who looked like they were on the verge of death—all so pale and their eyes closed, although the slight rise and fall of their chests indicated that they were still alive.

All of them were hooked up to a main machine who was probably responsible for the dull hum in the chamber; some were hooked to more machines than others. And upon closer inspection in his haze where he could not focus on just one thing in his surroundings, he realized that some of those people sustained injuries while some people looked unharmed.

There were live people with lab coats chattering among them, holding clipboards and scribbling down notes in front of these glass structures, with no expressions on their faces. They seemed to be unperturbed by what was going on around them.

Myungsoo—no, the fake Myungsoo—stood there silently, watching the ordeal with vacant eyes.

“Come with me,” Mr. Kim ordered, beginning to walk away. Taehyung could only watch him walk away, unable to stand. He was grabbed roughly by the fake Myungsoo who dragged him up and made him follow—stumbling along as his every fibre quivered in horror by the aid of the fake Myungsoo shoving him along. His vision cleared along the way, although his heart was still beating so fast that he was sure it could explode at any moment.

And finally, they arrived at their destination when Mr. Kim stopped: a desolate room except for a lone chair made of steel with bindings and embedded into the flooring, with an overhead light akin to what one would find in an operation room in a hospital. The room had transparent, glass walls so that one could peer inside and see what was happening in the room.

“We have the privilege of seeing what exactly _I_ am capable of.”

Taehyung paled at his father’s words.

As if on cue, stoic-looking people in lab coats entered the room after the metal doors to it slid open, dragging along two feeble-looking people. They were so emaciated that he was sure that had he known them before their stay in these chambers, he would not recognize them now.

The people in the lab coats did not mind them as they strapped one person onto the metal chair and threw the other onto the ground in one of the corners of the room, who skidded and smacked onto the glass wall. Taehyung winced.

And then the people in lab coats exited, filing out of the glass room one by one. The door to the room slid shut behind them, the sound of it clamping shut echoing in the empty hallway. They approached Mr. Kim, greeting him with a bow that indicated that they held him in esteem and had a great deal of respect for him. Taehyung almost retched from just that.

Mr. Kim waved them off in a rather detached manner and then he gestured at one of them, “Use our bio-weapon today.” Then a cruel laugh escaped him, making Taehyung shiver. “I am sure he will enjoy this.”

With a prompt push of a button on a panel that one of the people in the lab coats produced from their pockets, a whirring sound of a machine was heard. He watched as a glass casing was lowered into the room from a trapdoor in the ceiling that opened, the robotic arm holding it bending until it was held at head level with the person strapped to the chair. Another robotic arm descended from another trapdoor in the ceiling, holding a small scalpel. It made a cut on the man’s skin by the head.

Then it dropped the scalpel, narrowly missing the man’s forehead. It moved on in mechanical movements to opening a latch on the glass tank.

Taehyung watched in silence, holding his breath.

And then:

He watched in horror as the man began to scream and scream and scream, parts of his skin and subsequently his flesh, began to be eaten by something that could not be seen by the human eye. His screams rang out through the glass panel and the person who had been forced into watching inside the room began to scream too, a grating sound that sounded so animalistic that it didn’t even sound human.

Thirty minutes later, in his silence and inability to move, he watched with vacant eyes as the dead body—now just bones—was dragged out by people wearing full-protective gear in a bag. The other person who had been watching inside was led out of the room, silenced by a syringe with questionable-looking fluid.

“There is nothing to treat that,” Mr. Kim said, adjusting the buttons to his suit. “And you do best to remember what you have seen today.” He chuckled, leaning in towards Taehyung, who was tempted to lean away but couldn’t find the strength to.

“This is what happens to traitors and those against me.”

He flashed him a charismatic grin and waved at Myungsoo, “Escort my son out. His chauffeur has been waiting a long time for him and it’d be awfully rude for me to keep him any longer.”

And as an after-thought, he added: “He can have clearance to see the political prisoner now.” He looked at Taehyung, who didn’t want to look at him in the eye, “Make sure to walk him in front of the cameras once in a while. His father needs to know I’m upholding my end of the bargain.”

Then he walked off.

-

Taehyung immediately set out to find Jungkook after the chauffeur had dropped him off at the Estate. He approached the butler, demanding to be led to the political prisoner. He must have been informed of the new security clearance, because he obeyed without a word.

He was led to a room in the West wing of the Estate, the door identical to the other hundred-or-so doors that lined the hallways. The lighting in the hallway was brighter than it was in other hallways, presumably to ensure the Jeon didn’t escape in the darkness. On the other side of the door, he heard muffled yells of rage.

He took a deep breath, dismissing the butler silently. He gave a swift bow and disappeared down the winding staircase, but not before handing over a key.

Taehyung inserted the key into the keyhole and undid the bolt and the chain that were there for extra protection. The security details that were stationed at the door did not blink.

Taking in another deep breath, he swung the door open and walked in, the door closing behind him. There was the sound of the bolt and chain being fastened again. One of the security details joined them in the room, watching on mutely with a vacant expression.

He was greeted by Jungkook on the other side, his eyes glaring.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked, every bit like a feral animal.

“Tell me.”

Jungkook scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “About what?” Then Taehyung looked at the security detail who had followed them in, “Get out.” He did not budge.

“Get out!” he raised his voice. The security detail did not move, seeming to be nothing but a vacant shell who refused to listen to him. Jungkook sneered at that, “Seems like you don’t hold much power around here, do you?”

Taehyung did not deny or agree with the statement.

Then—

“Leave.”

The security guard nodded and the lock, bolt, and chain on the other side was heard. The door swung open and the security detail walked through, slamming the door shut behind him. The lock, bolt, and chain were heard being put back into place.

Taehyung could only stare in confusion, feeling like his world was about to cave in once again, for a second time that day.

To that, Jungkook smirked, one akin to the ones he had in Taehyung’s memories when he was satisfied with something. In this case, it was the confusion that was clearly written on Taehyung’s face. “So, any questions?” Jungkook leisurely walked over to the bed, plopping down onto it. The smirk was still there, irking Taehyung to no end (although he wouldn’t want to admit that his heart was racing at a mile per minute. He didn’t understand what the hell was going on anymore). He tilted his head to the side, “I don’t have all day, you know.”

Jungkook’s lips curled into a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, my updates from now on will be late. I will update once every two-three weeks. Sorry! It's just that I'm back at school now and before I'm a writer, I'm a student. Don't worry guys... I will be back and I will finish this story!


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